


An Iron Heart

by spacehostage



Category: The Mortal Instruments Series - Cassandra Clare, The Shadowhunter Chronicles - Cassandra Clare
Genre: Angst, Blood, Depressive Thoughts, Drinking to Cope, Dubious Consent, Implied/Referenced Sex, Knifeplay, Sad Ending, Self-Hatred, Self-Insert, Spoilers, shadowhunter
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-07-27
Updated: 2019-07-27
Packaged: 2020-07-22 20:37:14
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,779
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/19997953
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/spacehostage/pseuds/spacehostage
Summary: Meeting Jonathan Morgenstern the night he became Sebastian Morgenstern.After a shitty day of losing your job and your boyfriend, you wandered the nighttime street in a half-drunk state, and there you bumped into the most beautiful boy you'd ever laid eyes on.SPOILERS! extra chapter at the end of book 5 and toward the end of book 6.





	An Iron Heart

He was gone. Sebastian Morgenstern was finally gone.

In his place was the _true_ Jonathan Christopher Morgenstern, lay dying on the chamber’s floor in his mother’s lap. A profound regret marked every plane and line on his face as he gazed at his little sister at his side.

A bitter pang of jealousy gripping my heart in its cold claws. Despite everything he had done—what Sebastian had done—he had people who still loved him. Would cry for him. 

Clary Fairchild seemed at a loss of what to do. Conflict and hesitance chased each other across her face; she wasn’t sure if she should feel sad. If she should mourn this stranger of a brother before her. The brother he might have been. Perhaps she pitied him because she didn’t know this boy at all. I watched them from where I was in the safe shadows of the room. 

Sebastian had tormented and killed and done things beyond forgiving, beyond the term terrorizing, yet I’d obeyed him like an obedient little dog he’d made me to be. Never tried to run away, for fear of losing my life if I did. Many people were hurt because I was a coward. Guess I wasn’t that much of a good person I thought I was.

This unpitying, selfish person he’d brought out from my darkest depths. I hate it. Letting myself to be persuaded. I should hate him. Yet, I was also drawn to his wicked light.

What was I doing?

~

-Some while before-

Well, today was _the_ day. This called for some kind of celebration really, cuz this was a phenomenon. I slammed my glass down on the wood, still fuming—and broken—over the events of the afternoon.

Breaking up with my boyfriend was one of the hardest things I had to do in a long time. I’d been very happy honestly, so when our little fairytale world shattered, it was a mallet straight down on the heart. I went to work with a mind to keep myself distracted from my aching chest only to be briefed that it was also my last day. Just lost my job _and_ boyfriend in a day, all in a couple of hours. I had never seen such a big “fuck you” ever in my life. 

Later that night I found myself slumped in the local bar and crying into my drink in attempt to drown myself in happy juice and numb the pain. It did some work, but the reminder of my sad wallet prevented me from going full-on out. I literally couldn’t even afford to escape reality for a second.

By the time I was lost in the amount of glasses I’d ordered and refilled, and the bartender was nice enough to not take advantage of my small wad of cash, I was swaying out of the bar, swatting helping hands away as I went.I was starting to regret it, but it was hard to not drink too much when your heart was crushed up like bread crumbs for pigeons and that alcohol was your only friend who really had your back when no one else did. 

I laughed, at how pathetic I was—half-drunk, feeling like complete shit, and didn’t know which way was home. 

As I stumbled along, a thick clump of shadow swayed toward the bridge a few dozen feet away. 

Through my haze, the odd shape cleared into two figures: one supporting another up the bridge. One of them was dead gone, super intoxicated, judging by how he was barely walking. Huh, big deal. It was nighttime. We were near the bar strip. Drunk fellas dragging each other home ain’t an unusual sight around here. 

But then the sober one lifted his unconscious friend over the bridge’s side and threw him off it. The body hit the water with a quiet splash and sank. Like a gust of wind that knocked the quilt of fog out of my head, I was so sober I wished I wasn’t. 

Something in my gut told me that the drunk man wasn’t drunk at all. He was dead gone as in _really dead_. Killed dead. I forgot how to breathe. My limbs felt like tree trunks. My stomach so knotted up I wanted to puke. I was a hundred percent I just saw a body being disposed of.

_What fucking luck._

I wrenched my cemented legs to move the other way, away from the bridge, the silhouette. I didn’t dare look back, going straight, keeping my feet light. _Clack. Clack. Clack._ Footsteps behind me. And _way_ too close for comfort. The person was _meters_ away, there was absolutely no freaking way for them to close our distance with a snap. The footsteps were slow and without a care, as if the dude was in no hurry and damn sure will catch up to me. I started to panic.

Mama once said that if facing them head on and make small talks, that might throw them off. I stopped, steeled myself, and spun around, my fists ready to be thrown if need be. All there was was an old couple enjoying a nighttime stroll. They gave me a weird look as they passed by. I wondered just how out of it do I look. My heart threatened to crash through my ribcage. 

_The alcohol._ The alcohol was having a field day in my brain, the footsteps totally ain’t my anxiety blowing up. Nobody had gotten killed. No one was thrown off the bridge. Everything was going to be okay. _Yeah, that’s_ it.

I told myself to get some sleep, and by tomorrow morning I wouldn’t remember a thing when all of a sudden, something popped out from the mouth of an alley, right in front of me. I almost died.

“ _Bonjour, ma chère. Où vas-tu?_ ” 

I was paralyzed—both scared shitless and in awe. 

Snow white hair. Glowing, flawless skin. Unworldly dark eyes. A god-forsaken smile. I thought I’d found some kind of angel of some kind of realm. He was very beautiful and I found myself backing away. Somehow, I knew who he was. He was the killer. I began to stammer.

“I-I didn’t see anything.”

His voice was as captivating as his looks. “I didn’t ask if you did. You just gave yourself away, sweetheart.”

My mind was in a straight up jumble. I would’ve said something smarter if I hadn’t been shocked out of my guts. It was too late now. 

“Please. Don’t kill me,” I pleaded.

“You have the Sight,” he said.

“What?”

“The Sighted can see what normal people can’t.” He tilted his head subtly, eyeing me in sus. “You…”

 _See what other people can’t_. Damn right, I totally saw something no one had. I needed to get the hell outta here before he anchored me to the bottom of the river too. “I swear you don’t have to worry about me. I’m drunk and I’ll forget whatever I saw by morning. Just let me go.”

The boy lifted a hand toward me, and my survival instincts automatically kicked in. I hadn’t been a fighter, but years in bad foster care and on the streets had created one. I tried to twist his arm and flip him to the ground, but holy shit was he fast. Too fast. I barely saw him move and I was against the wall in the alley, his forearm pressing down on my throat, choking the breath out of me. 

“That’s stupid,” he hissed in my face. I couldn’t do anything other than futilely prying his arm off, he wouldn’t budge.

Just as my lights started blacking out he released me. The moment my windpipe was freed I dropped on my knees, coughing and dragging air into my lungs, my eyes watering. He stood at the mouth of the alley, like an evil apparition, making my getaway impossible. He knelt down and touched the shell of my ear with lukewarm fingers. I flinched. 

“What’s your name, love?” he asked in a contradictingly soft voice. His touch sent an electrifying and dreadful thrill through my veins, making me shudder.

For a split second I almost said “I don’t know.” Who in their right mind would give a killer their name? But I had to give him _something_. He wasn’t about to let me go if I didn’t give him one. I’m playing it safe, so I gave him a fake name. And if he knew I was lying, he didn’t show it. He helped me up and smiled, it didn’t reach his eyes. 

“You could be useful. Work for me, what do you say?”

“What?” 

_Work for him?_ He was crazy, and I even more so for even considering his offer for a second. No matter how jobless I was, I ain’t about to go under a killer’s wing. Or so I thought. I was gonna refuse when I thought his eyes turned completely black, making him look like something inhuman. Again, I blamed it on the alcohol.

“What do you want from me?” I said.

He flashed me a boyish look. “Nothing that would get you killed—if you’re smart enough. You can see through glamours so you’re perfect for espionage. They won’t suspect a fragile little mundane like you. Even better if they take you in because you’re Sighted.”

“You wanna go more in depth about that? The hell is this ‘Sight?’”

“Complicated thing, but in short, you have magical blood running in your veins. You weren’t supposed to see me at the bridge but the magic allowed you. And yes, magic, sorcery, anything you believe is a myth and whatnot is real.”

I simply stared. He was devastatingly beautiful, yeah, but obviously not right in the head. A delusional psycho was what he is. If I help him, that would make me a criminal accomplice. Last thing I wanted was to get my ass busted and thrown into prison while he used me as a scapegoat. Before I could reply, he took up my hand and pressed a kiss to my knuckles. The soft sensation of his lips made me tingly and my face blazed up despite myself. 

“I don’t wanna go to jail. How do I know you won’t sell me out if things went down the shithole?” 

If my previous attack didn’t offend him, then my doubt of his capability to ensure all his plans succeeded did the job. His brows knitted. “I don’t make mistakes. And I take precautions way more seriously than anyone. So things will always go as how I want it to.” 

Somehow I didn’t have all doubt about him. The successful rate of how he did stuff, that is. He said I wouldn’t die. And I was no stranger in the field of spy. As long as I didn’t have to hurt anyone then it was okay, right? I could always ditch if I wanted out. 

Later I found out how naive I was for thinking that; by then, I was in too deep.

After some more thinking I finally looked at him. “Then I’m in.”

He gave me the most mesmerizing grin and readjusted my hand in his for a handshake. “Great. Hope we’ll work well together. I’m confident that we will. I’m Sebastian, by the way. Pleasant to meet you.”

~

Sebastian had claimed there was nothing he couldn’t do; if he wanted, he could make anything, everything happen. Though there was one thing he couldn’t achieve—love and affection. He knew I liked him, yet it didn’t mean squat to him. I mean, what did I expect? I knew he couldn’t love. He’d fool around with other Downworld girls all the time, no more than bugs he could easily squash under his boots. His fickle affair with the Seelie Queen was no secret to me, he didn’t even bother to hide it either. Not that he cared about the opinion of a mundane he’d picked up in the street and could easily dispose of just as quick. And not that I cared too much for who he was fucking around with either, was never my business.

Just once. It was the first and last. I was content and disgusted. That night he had returned furious after his Endarkening ceremony was interrupted by Clary and her friends. He didn’t appreciate it when he didn’t get the response from me as he expected it. It was one of those moments I thought to myself that I’d made an awful mistake following him, the moment I’d really contemplated running off, leave him with his insanity and army, hoping the Shadowhunters would destroy it all. 

There was his black glare. His killer hand gripping my jaws to the point of bruising skin. And the monstrous kiss that he crushed upon my lips that made me taste copper. He wanted to devour me, break my bones, skin me, rearrange me in a way so I wouldn’t think to disobey him. Just like his playdoll, and that was okay, if it meant there was a chance he wouldn’t kill me.

One heated contact led to another until all was forgotten but bloodthirst and lust. The desire was intense, mindlessness was bestial, blood spilled, staining the sheets. Fear and want clashed inside of me in a fierce battle—one side wishing it to stop; the other resisting, craving this dark union of sinful desires and blood and corruption. I wanted to remember every bit of it. The biting knife and the hot numbing pain. The bitter blood in my mouth, skin, bed, floor. The shattered mirror and glorious red rents I was gifting him with the glass shards. It would be so easy to end him with the thing in my hand, if he wasn’t what he is. He called me dirty, didn’t know why, but whatever he saw, in the moment of stained sheets and sharp objects, he didn’t care—he wanted that filth for himself.

He saw something repulsing. I could only ever wonder what it was.

“Are you staying? Or do you wish to return?” Asmodeus asked me. “Though I have less use for a puny human here.”

I came out from the shadows after everyone had gone back to the human world. They took Sebastian’s body back with them. I faced Asmodeus. “I don’t have anything precious to give,” I said.

“That is a lie. You do have something. Everyone does.” The Prince of Hell crossed his arms, his mouth curved up in a vicious smirk, showing sharp teeth. “Your memories could be quite delectable. But I won’t take that from you.”

“Then what do you want?”

“Your love.” I frowned at his demand. “The pain that comes with it. The sorrow. The fire. I can feel its power. The pain of remembering the people you love so dearly but you don’t love them—that brings such joy. Don’t you agree?”

 _Stupid demon._ He wanted my feelings for everyone that I ever loved and leave me with just empty memories. I wouldn’t love my mama. My family. My friends. Even Sebastian. 

I imagined life if things were very, very different. That the fire never stole my family from me. That Sebastian was not Sebastian. Us meeting in an alleyway, flirting with each other like normal people. He would kiss my hand and I would charm him to fall in love with me.

Tears ran down my face. I could only dream of that alternate life in an alternate world. Do I have to die to fulfill it? The pain in my chest, it was unbearable.

“I’m helping you, puny human,” Asmodeus added, fed up at my wavering. “It hurts, doesn’t it? So why not give me what I want and move on? If remembering is also a burden, I’d gladly take that from you too. Begin a new life. A clean slate.”

A clean slate… Right. I had nothing left for me to go back to. No one was waiting for me. No one to share anything with. It would be better to just disappear all together. No more emotions. No more pain. No more sadness. Everything—gone.

Gone.

Gone.

_...No._

No. 

I’d lived past the fire that had thrown my life straight into a black hole, I’d lived past the oppressions of the streets. The times when I’d thought I wouldn’t make it. I _outlived_ Sebastian Morgenstern. I’d come so far—too far—for this to be my end. 

I’d live my rest out, without the love. That empty hole in my heart that would always be with me until the final breath. Until the final breath…

I was a survivor.


End file.
